


family portraits

by princess_zel



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Body insecurity, Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, Dadko, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Katara (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Momtara, POV Azula (Avatar), POV Katara (Avatar), POV Sokka (Avatar), POV Zuko (Avatar), Post-ATLA Canon Compliant, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-War, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Slowburn Sokkla, Soft Azula, Soft Zutara, Steambabies - Freeform, Steambaby, Turtleduck(s), Uncle Sokka, Zuko (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Zutara, aunt azula, established zutara, mental health, zutara family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_zel/pseuds/princess_zel
Summary: After the war, Zuko and Katara seek a future together and raise their children of peace. Sokka is restless, and so is Azula, but they take comfort in their shared nieces and nephew. As a family, they confront the ghosts of their pasts and heal.
Relationships: Azula & Katara (Avatar), Azula & Therapy, Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azula/Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 139
Kudos: 326





	1. suffering won't be her teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izumi is frightened when she discovers her firebending abilities, and Zuko comforts her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii!! this is a quick oneshot i scribbled based on a prompt i received via tumblr! i'm always soft for Zutara family, and i've never written within a canon context before so this was a nice break from my current longfic wip. please enjoy!! <333

It’s peaceful here. Zuko and Katara sit together on a blanket, positioned carefully on the grass in Ursa’s garden. It’s been five years now since the silver moon crest found its home in Katara’s mass of dark curly hair and only four since their little Izumi entered the world. Little Kya remains nestled in her mother’s arms while her big sister plays by the outskirts of the trickling pond, making friends with the turtleducks. 

Zuko can no longer even remember a time where he didn’t want this - Those days traveling with his uncle after his banishment feel like a lifetime ago, and he and Aang have since ushered in an era of peace to the Four Nations, assisted largely by his lovely wife, Katara, and their friends. Now, he’s Fire Lord, the ruler of his nation. Now, he’s a husband, his soul sworn to Katara for all eternity. And now, he’s a father to two precious little girls, who are children of peace, unlike their parents.

He sighs, whispering softly into his wife’s curly hair. She smiles up at him, blue gaze sheltered by a thick curtain of dark lashes.

It happens quicker than either he or Katara are able to prevent. Izumi, waving her arms at the turtleducks, accidentally unleashes a stream of fire that scorches a baby turtleduck’s wing. She screams, the frightened turtleducks scattering all over the pond. 

They’ve known since Izumi’s conception that she would be a firebender. During her pregnancy, Katara had always run hot, nearing feverish at times. While Zuko was thrilled at the prospect of having a daughter, nothing could’ve prepared him for this moment, her own discovery of her element. He never expected it to happen this way.

He doesn’t need to look to know that Katara’s already swept down to the pond, baby in one arm, pressing a glowing hand to the squawking turtleduck’s injured wing.

Right now, however, he has eyes only for Izumi. She looks aghast at her mistake, tears welling up in her small eyes as she stumbles blindly away from the pond. He envelops her in his arms as she hides her face in his long robes, crying into his chest.

For a terrifying moment, all Zuko can see in his mind’s eye is Azula. Azula, lashing out at helpless turtleducks when she got angry. Azula, taunting him when his firebending awoke within him after hers did. Azula, mocking him when their mother disappeared, leaving her two children alone with their cruel father. Azula, with her mocking golden gaze and penchant for blood. Azula, sobbing erratically when her whole world, built of lies and fear and blood, crumbled to dust beneath her feet.

He shudders. It’s hard to miss Izumi’s resemblance to her aunt when looking at her. Yes, she has the texture of Katara’s curly hair and skin just a shade darker than Zuko’s. But the structure of her face and the color of her hair… It’s all Azula.

“Daddy, I don’t want your fire!” Izumi’s quivering voice brings him back to reality. “Daddy, take it back - I don’t want your fire. I want Mommy’s water!” Another sob rips through her as she shakes in his arms, terrified of the power she possesses.

At her fear, Zuko’s heart breaks. But he can’t fault his little daughter for being so scared of the fire that courses through her veins… not when it’s so wild and untamed… not when it’s so dangerous uncontrolled…

Katara watches them carefully, her blue eyes heavy with pain. Somehow, they both knew this day would come. They just hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon. Kya squirms in her arms, tiny limbs kicking and reaching down towards the pond, their little waterbender.

“Izumi,” Zuko finally whispers, not quite trusting his voice if he speaks out loud. 

She sniffles loudly, wiping her eyes and nose against his royal robes. Inwardly, he apologizes to the servants who’ll be tasked with cleaning them. “Your fire is _scary_ , Daddy,” she cries.

“You’re right, Izumi,” Zuko rubs circles into her back comfortingly. “The elements - fire, earth, water, and air - are all scary when they’re used in ways that are bad. Fire can be scary, Zumi, and as firebenders, it’s our responsibility to make sure that we don’t hurt anyone while using it.” Before he can stop himself, his mind drifts back to a time when he’d said something similar to a young, scared Avatar. “But fire is also a gift.” He shifts so that his little girl’s still on his lap, curled between his arms. He cups his hands in front of her, calling a tiny wisp of flame. It pulses steadily in his hands, flickering in front of Izumi’s transfixed gaze. “Fire is life, Izumi, and we are its protectors, just like the dragons.”

“I’m still scared, Daddy,” she finally admits, lower lip wobbling uncontrollably. “I don’t want to hurt the turtleducks again.” 

“You won’t.” Zuko doesn’t know if this is a promise he has the power to keep, but Katara nods wordlessly, a comfort to him. “I’ll teach you, and Mommy will be here to help you too.” He chokes back a cry of his own, thinking about his younger sister and the ways his own parents failed them both. He won’t let that happen - not with his own children. “We’ll protect our fire together, Zumi.”

With the precious simplicity of a child, Izumi accepts the words of her father. “Will you teach me how to juggle fireballs?” Cuddling even closer to him, she mimics the way he’s holding his hands, crossing her eyes as she concentrates, bringing a baby flame of her own to life. 

At the dark look Katara shoots him, Zuko replies slowly, “Maybe not juggling…” At Izumi’s resulting pout, he continues, “I haven’t practiced my juggling in forever so I’m not very much good anymore anyways.” His girls have him wrapped around their fingers, and they know it.

As Katara sits back down beside them, admiring Izumi’s flame and complimenting her on her control, Zuko sweeps Kya onto his other knee, throwing his free arm securely around Katara. No matter what Izumi does and no matter how many mistakes she makes, he swears that he will not be like his father. He’ll teach her to protect her flame, the same way that Katara will guide little Kya in her waterbending one day. Their two daughters, along with any other children that have yet to come, have two master benders for parents and will have the benefit of understanding all the elements in order to master their own.

With Katara’s head resting on his shoulder and Kya giggling on his knee, he watches Izumi as she preserves her wispy fire on his other side. His heart swells with an overwhelming sense of pride and love for his little daughter, and he swears on Agni, Tui, and La that suffering won’t be her teacher. He’ll make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i appreciate all comments/kudos <33 as of right now, my [tumblr ask box](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/) is open for Zutara drabble/oneshot prompts!! thank you to whoever sent this prompt (i took some creative liberty over some of the details, but i hope you still enjoyed ^)
> 
> Elsie


	2. the love of an aunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara brings Izumi and Kya to meet and spend time with Azula.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo i'm back here again with this universe, thanks to another tumblr ask! this oneshot's really, really soft, and i wrote it fairly quickly so i apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.
> 
> i love Azula so much that it hurts. she's very soft for now with the kids, but i'm planning on exploring her dark side post-war. she's grown up a lot, and she's gotten help, but she still has her own ghosts to deal with.

“Mommy?” Golden eyes peer up at her, so beautifully similar to Zuko’s.

Katara’s hands are held on either side, and she glances down at her eldest daughter with a soft smile. “Yes, Zumi?”

“Is Daddy visiting Aunt Zula today?” the little girl questions, brows furrowed and a pout on her lip. Tugging on Katara’s hand, she’s slowed down considerably, losing the skip in her step.

“Yes,” Katara replies simply. “Daddy’s visiting Aunt Azula today. So are we.” Somehow, no matter how many years have gone by, she struggles with the fact that Azula shares the same roof as her husband and two precious girls. Sometimes, all she can remember is the way Azula aimed a slender finger at her, shooting crackling blue lightning right at her chest. She can remember the desperation in Zuko’s eyes as he leaped in front of her, taking the sizzling electricity straight to his heart. Despite Katara’s healing touch, there’s a web of scar tissue where the lightning hit Zuko’s abdomen, and he wears it proudly, a symbol of the deep love he has for her.

Still, Zuko’s provided a refuge for his younger sister. When all was said and done, she stood trial and was found guilty of multiple war crimes of various severity, but she was only a young girl, just fifteen years old. Her deteriorating mental state called for close, careful attention, and Zuko, shouldering the weight of a crumbling nation, held on to her too. She was the only family he had left, apart from Katara and his friends.

Placed in the wing farthest from their little family, Azula spends most of her time in her quarters with an occasional visit from Zuko or her therapist. Katara’s always imagined that it must be a lonely existence, but Azula merely bats her concerns away. She doesn’t visit much with the children, mostly because Zuko isn’t sure how Azula will react to them. She and Zuko have decided, though, that they’d like their girls to have the opportunity to know their aunt, regardless of their own unease.

They’re approaching Azula’s wing now, and the halls are strangely empty. No servants linger here, and there’s a stark lack of the furnishings that make a place feel like home. Katara notes this all, thinking on how she might make the wing more comfortable for Zuko’s sister. Little Kya, now able to toddle around on her own, breaks free from Katara’s grasp, going as fast as her chubby legs can carry her. 

“Kya!” Izumi calls, running after her baby sister. Her dark curls fly behind her, and she catches her sister’s hand, gripping it as they arrive at Azula’s chambers.

Izumi takes charge, knocking on the door with a solid fist. A babbling Kya, always watching her big sister, attempts to copy her, banging on the door with unbridled delight. 

The door swings open, and Azula arches a brow at the two little girls standing before her. “Well, what do we have here?” she muses, mostly to herself.

Never afraid, Izumi furrows her brows, holding onto Kya with a determined protectiveness. “We’re your cousins!”

“Cousins?” Azula questions, shooting a dry look at Katara. “I’m fairly sure I only have nieces.” She taps her nails against the doorframe, glancing briefly at Katara’s carefully concealed midriff. “Unless…”

Katara returns the look measuredly, cutting off that train of thought, “Azula.” She resists the urge to fold her fingers over her midsection, instead pushing past Azula and ushering her children into the room.

“So you’ve finally decided to visit me, sister in law,” Azula notes cooly, returning to her seat on a plush couch. “I don’t believe I’ve even met the smaller one.” Her golden eyes flicker dully as she watches Izumi and Kya play together on the floor with a cautious interest. “She’s a waterbender, isn’t she?”

Still barely stringing sentences together, Kya is blissfully unaware of her element and doesn’t yet understand its call to her. She giggles in unabashed glee as Izumi tickles her, rolling onto the carpet and kicking her legs uncontrollably.

“Yes,” Katara says shortly, sitting on a small couch across from Azula. 

“Good,” Azula muses. “That one needs someone who’ll keep her on her toes,” she says, now watching as Izumi twirls a thin ribbon of fire in front of her sister. “Unless, of course…” She shoots another pointed look at Katara’s middle.

Katara can’t stop the flush that paints her cheeks. “Izumi, no bending indoors,” she scolds instead, not wanting to see Azula’s carpets go up in flames. “Where’s Zuko?” she turns back to her sister in law.

Folding her hands behind her neck, Azula yawns lightly, still perched upon her sofa, legs crossed and feet dangling. “A new shipment arrived today, and there was something in it for me so Zuzu went to go get it.” Her attention is then drawn to Kya who’s gotten into the jar of Azula’s paint brushes. Quick to her feet, she makes her way to Kya’s side, whisking the brushes away and placing them back onto a table close by. “I was painting before your father arrived,” she explains to the children before Katara has the chance to scold Kya. “Would you like to paint with me?” she then asks, uncharacteristically gentle.

At Izumi’s enthusiastic squeal and Kya’s excited babbling, Azula seems to soften, and she rummages through a stack of canvases, searching for a blank one. Draping a tarp on the carpeted floor, she sets up shop there, Izumi and Kya sidling up to her on either side. She hands them both a brush, laying out small canisters of paint.

“Are you okay with them using your paints, Azula?” Katara asks carefully. With Sokka, playing with Izumi and Kya is commonplace; whenever he visits the palace, he never fails to toss their small forms over his shoulders, swinging them around and provoking uncontrollable shrieks of laughter. The girls have never had this experience with their aunt, mostly due to Azula’s supposed indifference toward them.

Showing Kya how to hold her brush properly, Azula meets Katara’s gaze levelly. “Are _you_ , Katara?” Then, she returns her attention back to Kya who’s enthusiastically whacking her brush against the canvas, scattering splotches of green across the painting. “That’s a fine technique, Kya,” she says. Her tone is a bit dry, almost sarcastic, but Katara can see a curious glimmer slowly flickering to life in Azula’s eyes.

A shadow appears in the doorway, and Katara stands to cross the room and meet her husband. He sets a wrapped parcel on a nearby desk as she slips under his arm comfortably, nestling close to his warmth and pressing a hand to his abdomen where she knows the tangle of scar tissue remains.

Eventually, Kya loses interest in the painting, dropping her brush against the canvas and crawling over to a seat; she pulls her tiny body up to a standing position, bouncing excitedly with her blue eyes sparkling. 

Izumi, though, watches Azula with eager interest, attempting to copy the way her aunt flicks her paintbrush at the wrist and creates sweeping arcs across the canvas, splotchy curtesy of Kya.

Katara never thought she’d see this… Azula looking down on her nieces with so much love in her golden eyes. Beneath her hand, Zuko’s heart picks up in speed, and she looks up at him, noticing the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. 

When Kya takes her first few stumbling steps toward her aunt, clutching at Azula’s robes, Zuko clings to Katara, and she can feel the choking sob as it builds in him. Wordlessly, Katara draws even closer to him, leaning against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

She knows that their children are blessed with many aunts and uncles… Sokka with his boisterous roughhousing, Suki with her kind smiles and exciting tales of adventures, Toph with her earthbending abilities and sculpting skills, Aang with his sweeping winds and easy laughter… even Ty Lee, ever the acrobat, is a wonder with the kids. But she’s seen the way Zuko watches them, a hint of pain always hidden away along with thoughts of his own little sister.

So when Azula, sitting primly on the floor, cautiously allowing her toddling niece to tug at her loose strands of dark hair, looks up at her older brother and his wife, a curious mist invading her golden eyes, Katara offers her a smile, gentleness overtaking her features. With Katara’s silent approval, Azula seems more at ease, no longer shying away from Izumi and wrapping a hesitant arm around the little girl. Moments later, Kya’s in her arms too, one slobbery fist in her mouth and another in her aunt’s hair.

Zuko opens a mouth to speak, tears shining in his eyes, but Azula cuts him off, “Don’t you say a _word_ , Zuzu.” She attempts to glower at him, but her glare falls flat when it’s apparent that tears are also sparkling in her own molten gaze.

So Katara remains nestled in Zuko’s arms as Izumi throws her arms around Azula, unabashedly declaring, “I _love_ you, Auntie Zula.”

The look in Azula’s eyes at that proclamation could truly melt even the coldest of hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading n dropping kudos/comments!! <33 i may just keep extending this collection of fics depending on the kinds of prompts i receive via [](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/) so feel free to sub to this fic if you'd like!!
> 
> Elsie


	3. he's their little nephew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka returns to the Fire Nation to take care of Izumi and Kya while Katara labors for her third child. He's surprised to see who's also been assigned the same task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a bit of a longer oneshot that's been building in my mind over the past few days since expanding on this universe. no prompt this time, just my mind lol :)))
> 
> this is less zk centric than the first one, but i hope you'll like it all the same - i'm planning on doing little snapshots of zk family (including sokka, azula, hakoda, iroh, the gaang, etc), hence the new official title of "family portraits"
> 
> in this universe, azula has had time to heal and process a lot of her trauma with proper help, and i may explore those themes more throughout this fic. i honestly don't really know what i'm doing with this one, lol; i'm kind of just letting it all happen organically

The waves crest and fall, and Sokka is restless, nearly frantic, by the time the boat finally reaches the harbor. Not wasting a single moment, he doesn’t even bother to gather his belongings before stumbling off the gangway and onto the dock. “Ty Lee - Is there any news?” he sounds breathless, as though he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him.

Ty Lee, head of the Royal Family’s contingent of Kyoshi warriors, twists her lips into an unusually worried frown. “She’s been struggling, Sokka. We need to get you to the palace as soon as possible.” Without further discussion, she motions for his luggage to be carried behind them, taking off as his escort to the palace.

The air is unsufferably hot and sticky, and Sokka’s already taken off his parka, draping it over his free arm. “How’s Zuko handling it all?”

“He’s worried,” Ty Lee replies shortly, glancing back at the Water Tribe chieftain. Her gray eyes, typically alight with laughter and life, are heavy with unshed tears. “He’s asked about your father and gran-gran. Will they be journeying here as well?”

“No,” Sokka shakes his head quickly. “Gran-Gran’s been feeling weak, and Dad decided it’d be best if he remained with Pakku to take care of her and look after the tribe in my absence. We’ve all been very concerned since receiving Zuko’s last message via Hawky.” He strides quickly up the palace steps where he and Ty Lee will part ways.

Twisting her torso and lifting her arms up in an elastic stretch, Ty Lee replies, “Katara’s very strong, Sokka. She’s already survived two pregnancies, and she won’t go down during her third.” She then extends her arm in a sweeping gesture. “Katara and Zuko should be in their chambers.”

Clunky boots thudding against the clean floors of the palace hallways, Sokka isn’t going to see Katara and Zuko. Not yet, at least. He reaches Ursa’s gardens in a matter of minutes, servants jolting out of his way as he tears down the corridors with the ferocity of a madman. 

Under the cover of arching trees, by the calm of the turtleduck pond, his little nieces play. Izumi, recently five, and Kya, a robust two. Another figure sits beside them, but Sokka barely has time to register their presence as Izumi and Kya launch themselves at him. He drops his parka to the grass as his arms shoot out to catch them.

“Uncle Sokka!” Izumi exclaims, throwing her tiny arms around his torso.

Kya, with her gummy grin, beams up at him, repeating after her older sister, “Uncle! Uncle!”

Sokka can’t help it. His heart melts at the sight, and he scoops them both up in his arms as they let out identical squeals of delight. “My Zumi and Kya,” he nuzzles both their cheeks in turn as Kya giggles, tugging at his warrior’s wolftail and pawing away at his stubble. “I’ve missed you both so much.” His attention is drawn back to the figure sitting by the pond, fiddling idly with breadcrumbs. His voice gets caught at the back of his throat. “…Azula?”

“Sokka.”

“Auntie Zula’s feeding the turtleducks with us!” Izumi explains with a bright grin, beginning to squirm in his arms. He sets her down, and she makes her way back to Azula, throwing her arms around her aunt with a look of pure adoration.

“What’re you doing here?” he can’t help the edge that creeps into his voice. He bites back a harsh retort, acutely aware of Kya and Izumi’s presences.

In all honesty, he’d forgotten that Azula still lived at the palace. He’s seen her a few times since the end of the war, back when he visited the palace more often to be with his family and a certain Kyoshi warrior. After breaking things off with Suki, though, he hasn’t been back much since then. Suki was needed back on Kyoshi Island, and he was needed at the South Pole. Shortly after, Suki relinquished her position at the palace to Ty Lee, and Sokka succeeded his father as Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

He visits on occasion, of course - He was present for Izumi’s birth, calming his anxious brother in law as Zuko wore down the carpet beneath them with his constant pacing. He was there for Kya’s birth too, taking care of Izumi as Katara and Zuko adjusted to life with a second baby in the family. Azula wasn’t present for _either_ of those. What is she doing here now?

Azula, ever sharp and straightforward, replies, “I’m playing with my nieces.” Her pert chin is lifted, and her golden eyes follow him appraisingly. She’s twenty four now, the same age as Katara. It’s been ten years since the end of the war. A mere decade ago, she was a broken fourteen year old girl, breathing blue fire and lashing out at all who dared to get close to her, screaming in anger, ever haunted by ghosts that didn’t exist to anyone but her.

“I think you mean _my_ nieces,” Sokka cuts in smoothly, tickling Kya who shrieks in laughter.

A slender brow arches. “They’re _my_ nieces, Sokka.” Gaze never dropping Sokka’s, she breaks off little pieces of bread for Izumi to feed to the turtleducks. Her limbs are folded delicately, and her light red robe hangs from her lithe body gently. Unlike the topknot she wore when she was younger, her long dark hair hangs loose, framing her face. Izumi bears a startling resemblance to her, he realizes.

He’s just about to protest again when Kya’s arms fling out from him, her tiny hands reaching for _Azula_. Instead of handing the wiggling toddler off, Sokka reluctantly sits down beside his former enemy, shifting Kya in his arms. Izumi’s tossing bread into the pond with reckless abandon, accidentally hitting herself on the head with her enthusiasm.

“That’s definitely your side of the family showing,” Azula notes dryly. The corner of her lips turn up ever so slightly, though, and Sokka bears it silently, forgoing retaliation as Kya pats his cheeks happily.

Izumi pops in between them, throwing an arm around their necks and tugging them into a warm embrace. “I’ve never played with you _both_ before!” she exclaims in excitement, and Kya claps her hands in agreement. “I can’t wait to show you my fire, Uncle Sokka! Daddy and Auntie Zula’ve been helping me, and Daddy wants to take me to see dragons one day!” She lights up a small flame in the palm of her hand, and Kya reaches for it with a giggle.

Jerking Kya back quickly, Sokka can’t help the jolt of fear that courses through him at his tiny niece wielding such bright fire.

Thankfully, Izumi doesn’t seem to register his scared reaction, but Azula places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re excited, Izumi, but we still have to be careful with your fire. Do you remember what we spoke about the other day?”

Izumi’s small face scrunches in thought before her golden eyes light up. “We protect people by protecting and being the boss of our flame. I remember, Auntie Zula. That’s what you and Daddy _always_ tell me.”

“I’m proud of you for remembering,” Azula says, her voice cracking lightly. “My smart, kind Izumi.” Stiffly, she opens her arms to the little girl who returns her affection freely.

Sokka doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation. Ten years ago, he would’ve laughed if someone told him he’d be sharing such a tender family moment with the firebending prodigy who chased them around the world and constantly tried to _kill_ them. Granted, he probably would’ve done the same if he were told that his little sister would one day be Fire Lady, bearing children of Fire Nation blood.

He opts, instead, for silence, threading his fingers through Kya’s dark curls. Together, they wait by the turtleduck pond for what seems like hours. He desperately wants to find his sister and make sure that she’s okay, but he knows that Katara needs him here more, looking after her children. Ty Lee was right - Katara has Zuko, countless physicians, and herself. She’s a master waterbender, more than capable of taking care of herself and her baby. If he went to visit her now, she’d likely grow tired of his fussing, knock him upside the head, and get Zuko to kick him out of the room. Or worse, she’d do it herself.

Shuddering at the thought, Sokka focuses his attention back toward his nieces. He’s still floored at the way Azula has mellowed over the years, patient and tender toward both Izumi and Kya. She never raises her voice, and she’s attentive and doting with them in a way that even Sokka isn’t.

As the sun slowly begins to creep its way beyond the horizon, they spend the afternoon feeding the turtleducks, reading picturebooks, and eating a meal that’s brought out to them by the servants. By dusk, there’s still no word from Zuko and Katara.

Just as an overly calm Azula’s suggesting to an overly anxious Sokka that they get the girls ready for bed, a servant comes bursting into the gardens. “Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara have summoned you all to their chambers!”

Sokka’s so relieved that tears begin to course down his cheeks as he hoists a wide-eyed Kya onto his shoulders. Izumi, who typically tires by the time the sun sets, is bouncing on her heels excitedly. Even Azula appears more at ease as she holds Izumi’s hand, the heavy crease on her brow finally gone. They make quite the little caravan, Sokka decides, as they make their way through the palace to Zuko and Katara’s chambers. 

Standing at the entrance, Zuko is haggard, sweat beading at his brow, fingers pressed to his temples. At the sight of his children, though, he breaks into a relieved smile, sweeping them into his arms and kissing the tops of both of their heads. “Sokka,” he greets, extending his arm and meeting Sokka in a strong Water Tribe grip. “Azula, thank you both for watching them.” He folds his little sister in a tight hug before turning his attention back to his children, “Are you ready to meet your baby brother now?” Grinning at their exuberant reactions, he leads them into the room. “I’ll be back out in just a second,” he promises, lightly closing the door behind them.

Sokka’s left standing in the hallway with Azula. “A nephew,” he can’t help but grin. He adores his nieces, and they can easily bend him to their every whim, but he can’t help the thrill he feels at the prospect of having a nephew too.

Hugging herself tightly, Azula repeats in a whisper, “A nephew.”

Finally, after what seems like an eternity later, Zuko returns, poking his head out of the door. “Hey. I believe you both have a nephew to meet.”

Unable to contain his excitement, Sokka quickly strides forward to follow his brother in law, pausing when Azula reluctantly peels herself from where she’s leaned against the wall. There’s such an uncertainty in her eyes that, after a beat, Sokka extends a hand out to her, and she hesitantly slips her soft one into his rough one.

They follow Zuko into his chambers where Katara smiles tiredly, propped up against a mountain of pillows, a tiny bundle in her arms. Izumi and Kya are at either side, curiously peering over her to look at their baby brother. “Sokka. Azula. Come.”

Zuko gathers his little girls into his arms, falling into a plush armchair and pulling them both to sit on his lap. He tousles their curly hair and hugs them both to his chest, watching over his wife proudly from the bedside.

Azula’s feet seem to be rooted to the floor, and Sokka tugs her forward gently, fighting the instinctual urge to rush to his sister’s side. “Katara,” he grins at his little sister, kissing the top of her head lightly. “I’ve missed you.”

Wrinkling her nose, Katara shoots back easily, “I haven’t missed you.” She then gives a small laugh, glancing back down at the little bundle in her arms. “Here,” she offers it up to him. “His name is Iroh.” Her blue eyes are heavy, and there are dark circles beneath them. This pregnancy was very difficult for her, he knows.

“Uncle will be pleased,” Azula says, the words sounding choked and strangled in comparison to her normally elegant speech.

With his girls tucked in his arms, Zuko watches them softly, love shining in his eyes. “He will. He’s to arrive within the next week or so from Ba Sing Se.” At that, both his girls twist up to look at him, wearing mirrored expressions of delight.

“Grandpa’s coming?” the question bursts from Izumi’s lips, and Zuko hushes her gently, nodding his head. She climbs out of his lap, crawling back up to nestle into her mother’s side, and Kya remains in Zuko’s arms.

Peering down at the little face, Sokka cradles the bundle against his chest, noting the shock of black hair atop the baby’s head and the tiny curled fists. He leans down slightly so that Azula can peek too, and his blue eyes drift toward hers before he can stop them.

Tears have been freely trailing down Sokka’s cheeks this entire time; he’d been overwhelmed both with fear for his sister’s life and sheer joy at the thought of her baby son. Now he can see that Azula’s had a similar response, albeit a more subdued one.

Hesitantly, she lifts a finger, catching Katara’s gaze from where she lies on the bed. At Katara’s nod of encouragement, Azula strokes a gentle finger along baby Iroh’s face, from his forehead, down to his nose, and across his soft cheeks. Unconsciously, she grips Sokka’s arm, gazing at the baby with such an unbridled love that he’s almost content to watch her instead of little Iroh. _Almost._

“He’s our little nephew,” Sokka finally says, his voice heavy with emotion.

Azula looks up at him, the sharp angles of her face softening. “Our little nephew.”

His lips curve up into a smile. _Their_ little nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, if you have a prompt/dynamic you'd like to see explored in this universe, totally swing one my way via [tumblr](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/)! <33 feel free to follow me over there if you like seeing random zk headcanons/mini metas/fic snippets
> 
> (also, yes. there are hints of sokkla throughout this - i think i'm going to explore this more too, depending on how things develop)
> 
> honestly, things may get darker as i start to explore post-war katara/zuko/sokka/azula beyond the context of the children so i've upped the rating to T which will hopefully be safe enough for all that i'd like to write about


	4. her scars are beautiful too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavily burdened by her war scars and severely worried for her newborn son, Katara struggles through her emotions, and Zuko supports her through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's a purely zk chapter! this one's a lot angstier than the others we've seen so far.
> 
> i find it very unrealistic to believe that both zuko and katara would leave the war unscathed (physically/emotionally/mentally), and this chapter explores that in detail. despite katara being a master waterbender, i think that there's a very big possibility that she may have ended up with scars from the war just the same as anyone else. i'm a sucker for katara reassuring zuko about his scars, and i know he'd do the same for her.
> 
> since this deals a lot with body insecurity, depression, and the aftermath of a difficult pregnancy, i'm going to have to give a trigger warning for this one.

She hopes Zuko doesn’t find her here. Curled up in the chilly tub with her knees tucked up to her chin, she’s submerged under the water, strands of her curly hair drifting along beside her. All her clothing, with the exception of her sarashi wraps, lie abandoned on the other side of the room, and her shoulders shake with the force of every choked sob.

There’s an painful pressure building at the back of her throat, and she shudders as the cold water slips against her skin, a small comfort. As her fingers trace the white scars and stretch marks that run along her skin, she can’t hold back another broken cry.

“Katara?” It’s Zuko. He knocks on the door before poking his head in. “We have a meeting with the council today, and I wasn’t sure if you’d - Katara.” He steps fully into the room, worried golden eyes taking in her shivering form. Kneeling beside the tub, he reaches to take her into his arms, but he freezes when she flinches lightly.

Dragging the backs of her palms across her teary eyes, she whispers, “You should go to the meeting, Zuko.” She sinks even lower beneath the surface of the water, hair billowing around her.

Her attempts at hiding her tears are of no use, and Zuko remains by her side, not daring to lean over the edge of the tub but also not comfortable with leaving her there. “I won’t leave you here, Katara,” he finally says, voice low and gravelly. “Not like this.”

His reassurances only bring forth new tears to her eyes, and she sobs into the water, the sound hollow and splintered to her ears. Her limbs curl even further around her protectively, and as she sits up slightly, her hair clings to her person.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Zuko remains there, simply understanding. He shifts away from her slightly, leaning against the tub and running a worried hand through his dark hair.

Finally, the words drag through her, ragged and torn. “There are so many of them.”

The too-white flesh that stands out viciously against her tanned skin, all from blades that caught her unaware. The puckered areas along her arms where angry fire ran too hot and too long for her to sate. The lines that race along her legs and stomach where her body has stretched itself to create curves and compensate for three pregnancies.

“I couldn’t heal them all,” she examines one along her wrist. “I was too young and too damaged to handle them all.” She hates them. “Now it’s too late, and they’re here forever.” Her voice is swallowed by her sobs as they echo uncontrollably through the stillness of their bathroom. One particular incision along her stomach causes bile to rise at the back of her throat. “And I’ve done a disservice to our son. My body… I’ve failed him. He’ll always be sick, Zuko. I can’t heal him, the same way I can’t erase the scar I now carry from his birth.”

At her broken confession, Zuko shifts around to face her again. “Katara…” Her name sounds empty from his lips. The tears glisten against his skin like tiny crystals of shattered glass.

They had been so scared… so scared that they were going to lose little Ro. Zuko held her through it all as she clung to him with a helpless desperation. Even with all her knowledge and bending abilities, she wasn’t able to fully heal their baby son, and the physicians they consulted could do no better.

Little Iroh II was born very ill, and not even his waterbending master of a mother could do anything to prevent it.

“I carried both Izumi and Kya to term,” she chokes out, a feeble attempt at reassuring herself that she’s not a horrible mother and that her body isn’t a horrible traitor. “They were both so strong and healthy… But Ro…”

They remained as strong as they could in front of the children. They introduced the girls to their new baby brother with all the joy they could muster, knowing that their newest little one still hadn’t conquered his struggle for survival. Katara placed the tiny bundle in Sokka’s outstretched arms, and Zuko watched as Azula peered over his shoulder at the baby, a small spark in her otherwise vacant eyes. 

But he’s very small… His body is so frail. His cries are plaintive and weak.

Katara can hardly bear to leave him for even a moment, and Zuko keeps a constant vigil over them both. The dark circles beneath their eyes are heavy.

Upon his arrival from Ba Sing Se, Zuko’s uncle insisted on giving the exhausted parents time to rest, doting on his namesake and his two eager granddaughters. Sokka’s proven to be a steady playmate for the girls, sheltering them from the way their little brother’s life still remains in jeopardy. Ro’s frailty scares Azula, and she’s spent much of her time locked in her chambers, withdrawing from reality, retreating further and further into herself.

“He’s a fighter.” Zuko finally places a steadying hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles against her cold skin. “Just like his mother.” Gently, he helps her to her feet, and she stands shakily, the water lapping around her calves.

Stumbling out of the tub and into her husband’s arms, Katara collapses against him, “It’s too much, Zuko. How can I heal my son when I can’t even heal myself?” She grips the fabric of his robes tightly between her small fingers, allowing his warmth to seep into her shivering body. “I fought for him so hard… If we lose him anyways… I don’t know what I’ll do.” Her confession lifts a weight she didn’t even know existed from her chest.

Pressing gentle kisses along her marred skin, Zuko whispers, “We won’t lose him, Katara. We’ll keep fighting for him. We never, ever give up.” His hands tenderly work through her damp, tangled curls. “You’re beautiful… You know that, right?”

She looks down at the jagged tears along her skin, swallowing back another cry. “They’re so ugly, Zuko.” She’s a _failure._ She, a master waterbender, can’t heal all her scars.

Softly, Zuko takes one of her hands in his own, slipping them past his robes and bringing them to rest against his abdomen, where the twisted star-shaped scar lies. With his other, he traces along the curve of hers, still swollen from pregnancy, before drifting up to brush against the white slashes and poorly healed burns that cover her arms. “They’re not, Katara. None of them are. Do you think my scars are ugly?” he asks, his voice raspy and sincere.

Wordlessly, she shakes her head, quivering against his solid form. 

“They’re beautiful,” he hums in agreement. “Together, they all tell a story, Katara - the story of how I was able to find myself again - the story of how I was able to find you - the story of our _family._ Your scars are beautiful too.” Pressing one last reassuring kiss to her shoulder, he meets her lips with his own, softly brushing the tears from her eyes.

Meeting long forgotten, they stand there together, clinging to each other as though the world is ending. He holds her as she cries, and she kisses his tears away.

As Zuko presses soft kisses to her skin, one last sob shudders through her, but in that moment, Katara thinks she can see in herself what he sees when he looks at her. Leaning into his gentle touch, she truly feels beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of right now, all the chapters are linear, and i'm thinking of maintaining that throughout the rest of this fic. honestly, how did this become a multi-chap fic, lol. this was supposed to be a oneshot, then a twoshot, and now it's just a full on fic.
> 
> also thought i'd throw in a note that katara knows she's a beautiful, strong queen - sometimes she just needs zuko to be there and reassure her about it.
> 
> thank you so much for reading/leaving kudos/commenting/sayin hi via [tumblr](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/)!!


	5. lucky to be born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to sleep, Zuko wanders the hallways restlessly with his newborn son. He and Azula have a deep late night discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we have a sibling-centric chapter here (Zuko n Azula). i've been kind of writing in frenzy so i apologize if there are any mistakes throughout this (...so much writing...i finally finished nano oml).
> 
> i just released a longshot for ZKFAW today if you'd like to check that out - it's very very soft ZK (Zuko's pov) based on pokidokies's art. if you'd like to check it out, you can [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699200) :DD

It’s well past midnight, but for once, contrary to his nature, Zuko’s still awake. Katara’s had little to no rest since Ro was born a few weeks ago, and she’s resting now, tucked under the covers of their bed, curled up on her side. She’s suffered much from this pregnancy, mentally, physically, emotionally, and it’s all catching up to her now, especially due to her lack of sleep. 

He’s going to let her rest.

So, with his squirming son in his arms, Zuko wanders the corridors of the palace, begging Agni, Tui, and La to touch the child so that they can all sleep. His steps are light, and he can’t help but peer into his daughters’ rooms, checking to make sure that both Izumi and Kya are fast asleep.

He passes by Sokka’s room before crossing through Ursa’s gardens. The moon reflects off the pond with a kind glow, and he briefly thinks back on the princess from the North Pole… Yue. Sokka’s first love. The moon spirit.

The turtleducks have long since hidden themselves away in the reeds, likely sleeping as well. Little fireflies flicker by, and if Ro weren’t in his arms, he’d perhaps try to get one to land on his finger. The stars twinkle overhead, and he wishes on every single one, pleading for his son’s life.

Ro needs more attention and care than Izumi or Kya ever did when they were babies, and he knows it’s weighing heavily on Katara. He’s been shouldering much more of their shared political responsibility, allowing her more time with their youngest, but he knows that she’s growing weary all the same. 

He can’t help but feel a special connection to his little son, though. Perhaps it’s because they both entered this world with only a small fighting chance. Perhaps it’s because they were both born into a family of lucky sisters. Perhaps it’s because they’re both lucky to be born at all. Regardless of the reason, as Ro’s tiny chest heaves with each shuddering breath and as his face scrunches up in a pained scowl, Zuko knows that he’ll fight for his little one.

Unbeknownst to him, his feet have been moving, carrying them past Ursa’s gardens. He’s like a ghost in the night, cradling his child desperately against his chest in the hopes that he, as a father, can protect him from the harsh realities of the world, of his existence.

Hardly realizing how he got here in the first place, he lifts a hand up to knock against Azula’s door.

Moments later, his sister appears, golden eyes bloodshot and dark hair a tangled mess atop her head. “Zuzu.” She lifts an appraising gaze up and down, noting his drained appearance and the child quivering fitfully in his arms. At the sight of Ro, her face pales, and she looks just about ready to close the door in his face.

He stops her. “Zula, please.”

Aloof as ever, she sets her jaw before allowing him to step inside. Turning her back toward him, she presumably returns to the painting she was working on prior to his arrival. She has her brushes and paints scattered haphazardly throughout the room, and her easel is set up beside her bed, facing an open window. She resumes her work while Zuko stands in the threshold of her chambers.

“Azula,” he finally pleads, internally begging her to look at him, to look at his son.

She focuses on her work stubbornly, her wrist flicking, brush stroking against the rough canvas. Her silk nightgown shifts off one of her shoulders, and she jerks it up quickly, accidentally smearing paint along it.

Ro squirms in his arms, beginning to cry, his little wails too shallow and too weak. Immediately, Zuko begins to rock him, entering the room and sitting on one of the plush armchairs across from his sister. He presses a light kiss against the soft dark down atop his son’s head.

After what seems like an eternity, she finally speaks. “He’s not going to survive.” Her declaration is cold and cutting, but her voice wavers as she makes it.

“Don’t say that,” he whispers, holding Ro as tightly as he can without hurting him.

With a bitter laugh, Azula viciously dunks her paintbrush into a deep blue canister. “You and I both know that he was lucky to be born. He nearly died, Zuko.” Her use of his given name startles him, as does her use of their father’s haunting words that were always thrown at _him_ when he was little. “So did Katara.”

Fear rips through him at her blunt words, but he knows that she’s right. Katara almost lost her life, and so did their son. “But they’re both alive.”

“Katara may be,” Azula concedes. “But you don’t know about the little one.” She purposefully avoids using her nephew’s given name. She yanks her brush across her painting with such a ferocity that she nearly tears a hole through the canvas.

“You’re afraid,” he accuses. Ro’s cry fills the air as he fights against the hot fire that courses through his veins. His little son… born a waterbender, just like Kya. Will he ever be able to bend with his sisters?

Azula stiffens.

“You’re afraid of becoming attached to Ro,” he continues, unable to stop the words spilling from his mouth. “You’re scared that he’ll die and you’ll lose another person you care about. Don’t you think I understand? I’m terrified for him too. I don’t want to lose him - But I haven’t given up on him either.” He doesn’t get up from his seat, directing his glare at his sister’s back all the same. “Why are you hiding, Azula?”

Her knuckles turn white as her grip on her brush tightens.

Curling around his son, Zuko holds back a broken sob. “We need you, Zula. I need you. Katara. Izumi and Kya and Ro. Uncle. Even Sokka.”

“Why would you expect me to help?” Azula replies bitterly. “Have you forgotten, _Zuzu_? I’m _crazy_.” Her gaze becomes cloudy as she stares into open space. She falls silent for a few moments, tracing the hard wood that makes up her easel. “I still see Mother, you know. She’s going to haunt me until the day I die.” Finally, she meets Zuko’s eyes, and hers are filled with years of unspoken torment.

Threading her hands through her dark hair, Azula drops her brush, drawing her knees to her chest on the floor. She rocks herself back and forth, the same way Zuko is rocking his child. His heart breaks for his sister, who never had the love of a father or a mother throughout her troubled childhood. For all the pain he endured, Zuko had Iroh and eventually Katara too. Azula had no one. For years, no one dared come close to her, save for her doctors and the ghosts that haunt her to this day.

“You’re not crazy.” He knows this. His sister is more lucid than she’s been in years, largely in part due to her continued therapy and her newfound love for her nieces. Izumi and Kya have played a significant role in her recovery, he thinks. In spending time with them over the past several months, Azula has moments where she’s truly free from the shadows of her past, reluctant but receptive toward the liberally given affection.

She eyes him with cool indifference, a look so contradictory to the fearful way she’s pulled her limbs into a protective ball around her. “So what if I’m not? It’s what everyone else thinks I am.” And then, the cloudiness returns. “Mother thought I was a monster. I’m proving her right.” She tugs at the snarls in her hair.

“Azula, you aren’t a monster.” He hushes Ro’s cries, raising his body temperature by a degree or two, smiling when his son snuggles closer toward his warmth. “If you were one, you wouldn’t help Zumi with her firebending or feed the turtleducks with Kya. You wouldn’t spend time with Katara. You wouldn’t speak to me. You wouldn’t play nice with Sokka or look at Ro like you love him.” He struggles to find the right words. “Mother shouldn’t have treated you the way she did, Zula.”

Her golden eyes darken. “Well, she did, and she hated me, and now she won’t leave me alone. If the little one dies, all he’ll do is join her.” Her gaze dims.

Zuko stands, approaching his sister carefully. When she doesn’t shirk from his presence, he sits down on the floor beside her. She looks so lost… like a little girl again. She leans against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around her, the other still secure around his son’s sleeping form.

“You’ve been fighting for a long time, haven’t you?” He knows she has.

From the minute she was first examined by the palace physicians, she fought. Toward the beginning of her treatment, it was against him, against the therapists, against her healing. But things slowly began to shift. She no longer wanted the ghosts to swallow her in the deep of the night. She began to fight for herself, for the lucidity of her mind, for the mending of her heart.

Despite his continued search for their mother since the day he was crowned Fire Lord, Ursa is nowhere to be found, and Zuko can’t help but feel as though a part of them both may always be a little broken because of it. 

Even while seeking it sincerely on her journey toward healing, Azula has often been denied closure. Mai and Ty Lee avoid her. Their mother is presumably dead. Their father died in prison several years ago.

Her budding relationships with Katara and the children are a few of the only good things in her life right now, and he knows it. While the rest of the world has shunned her, his family has welcomed her with open arms. He, her brother, has protected her the way he wishes he could’ve when they were both little.

Slumping against him, Azula wordlessly nods her head.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of not caring.” It needs to be said.

She shudders, gripping him tightly. “I am scared, Zuzu.” Her golden eyes seek his own, tortured and consumed with grief. “I don’t want the little one to die, I swear it. And not only because he will haunt me… But because it would make you all very sad.” She pauses, her lower lip trembling. “It would make me very sad too,” she confesses quietly.

“Mother did love you,” he whispers into the darkness. “And I love you too. We all do, Zula.” She still hasn’t held Ro, and Zuko doesn’t ask if she’d like to. Just the fact that she’s looking at him is enough. “I’m very proud of you.”

Thoughtfully, she nestles into his side, “Ro was lucky to be born, you know…” She doesn’t know the way his heart sinks at her words. “He has you for a father.” His heart soars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eee, so next chapter is Azula/mental health with a sprinkling of Sokkla toward the end. Zutara's already been established in this fic, and i'm slowly building up to Sokkla. i know this isn't the typical take for post-war fics, and i'm really trying to balance/develop both ships as evenly/naturally as i can.
> 
> i appreciate all the kudos/comments/etc <33 thank y'all so much. i guess i shouldn't be surprised that my most popular fic rn is a post-war canon fix it, but i'm grateful all the same lol. see y'all soon!!


	6. the blue flames flicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While spending time with Izumi, Azula loses touch with reality, and her thoughts spiral. She finally confronts the ghosts that haunt her and moves toward greater clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was scarily easy to write, and i think it's one that can be pretty personal. that being said, it's one of my favorites so far.
> 
> tw for dissociation/hallucinations. the dissociation Azula experiences here may be different to that of which you/a loved one/someone you know experiences; i've drawn from personal experiences (mine and friends') in order to write this part as accurately as i can, but everyone is different, and no one's experience with trauma is exactly the same as anyone else's.
> 
> there's some Sokkla toward the end of the chapter.

“Auntie Zula! Auntie Zula!” Izumi’s face is unbridled excitement. “Look, my fire has _blue_ in it!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes and thrusting her tiny palm out for her aunt to see. The flame she’s nursing is a startling blend of mostly oranges and reds, with a hint of cold blue flickering at its edges.

Instantly, Azula’s heart seizes in her chest, and she feels as though she’s drowning. Muttering senselessly to herself, she backs away slowly, not entirely registering the sad look on her niece’s face.

“Auntie Zula?” Izumi implores, the flame winking out in an instant. “Did I do something wrong?” she moves to pull her aunt into a warm embrace, but Azula twists carefully away. She runs off, scared.

Good.

Lost in her mind, Azula wanders throughout the courtyards back to her quarters, leaning against her door, burying her face in her hands. She grips at her hair, vision going blurry as the world spins around her.

Blue flames.

How long has it been since she’s seen them?

Zuko’s fire burns with all the colors of the rainbow, and she’s heard tales of her brother and the Avatar embarking on a journey to learn firebending from _dragons._ But pure, distilled blue flames?

She holds her palm out before her, and her fire is weak, a light summer sky when it should be coursing electricity.

Blue flames.

They were her trademark. They set her apart from the others. They showed her prowess and skill with her element. They defined who she was.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she thinks she maybe feels sorry for startling her niece. It wasn’t Izumi’s fault, but it couldn’t have been avoided. She’s too much like her aunt… too close to becoming a monster, just like Azula.

Blue flames.

Azula thinks she can remember a time when her fire burned a passionate orange instead of a disconnected blue. Perhaps it was when she was a child. Is she still a child? No, she is twenty four years old. She’s a woman. She’s been through too much… too much. Her mind is spinning. She reaches out for something, anything, to anchor herself on.

In the distance, she thinks she can see her mother… Ursa. Her almond eyes look kind, as does her gentle face. But Azula knows better. She knows the way Ursa would look at her when she thought the little girl wasn’t looking. But Azula’s always been too cunning, too sharp. She never missed the way her mother’s eyes crinkled in disapproval or widened in fright.

“Mother,” she grits out, her eyes flashing in anger and hurt. “I’m not a monster.”

Ursa’s lips twist up into a smile, and she folds her hands in front of her.

“Don’t mock me!” the cry tears from Azula’s throat as she buries her head, curling herself up into a tight ball on the ground. “I’m not a monster. I’m not.” Blue sparks at her fingertips, and she quenches it, shuddering terribly.

She can still feel Ursa’s eyes on her, unearthly steps echoing throughout the corridor around her. It must be Ozai, here to finish her off.

“I’m Azula,” she chokes out, her therapists’ techniques ratting around her mind. “I’m Azula. I’m twenty four. My brother is Zuko. My sister is Katara. I have two nieces. I have one nephew. I am a firebender. I am not a monster. I’m healing. Mother didn’t know. Mother loved me. Father loved me. He hated me. I loved him. I love Zuko. I want them to all go away. Mother, leave me _be_.”

Blue flames, begging to be released into the atmosphere.

Her control is slipping, and she can feel it. She doesn’t _want_ to be a monster. She wants to be free. She wants to be Azula.

Looking up, Ursa is gone, for what she hopes will be the last time. Ozai’s shadow, looming in the distance down the hall, has disappeared too.

The heat burning at her fingertips dissipates, and she wipes away some of the sweat beading at her brow. Her heart quickens when she realizes she’s still not alone, not yet. Head snapping up, she directs her glare at whatever spirit deems her worthy of their time or unworthy of her peace of mind.

“Azula?”

Her brows knit together, and her inner fire is stoking again. Her vision is still cloudy, and she can scarcely make out the figure standing before her. “I’m _not_ crazy,” she mumbles. “I’m _not_ a monster.” She clenches her fists tightly.

“Azula.”

Her head snaps up, and she blinks, once, then twice, attempting to clear her sight. “Go away.” She holds her palms out, blue fire leaping upward. Are ghosts afraid of fire? Perhaps not.

In any case, he doesn’t move away or jump backward in fear like she expects him to.

“Azula.” Kind hands grip her wrists, and they’re cool against her skin.

The fire cools, and the world becomes steady. She’s no longer rocking herself. Was she rocking herself before? She jerks away from the foreign touch, scrambling to her feet. Her gaze hardens, and she sways, clinging to the wall.

“Where is Izumi?” she asks, voice trembling. She scared Izumi. She scared her just like she scared her mother. She’s a monster… She’s not a monster. She’s Azula.

Worried blue eyes seek hers, and hands weathered by the sea reach for her, stopping just short of steadying her. “She’s safe with Kya and your uncle.” The words are spoken slow enough for her to understand. “She came and told me you weren’t feeling well.” 

Azula breathes in. Her eyes flutter closed. She is safe. Then, she breathes out. She counts the number of fingers present on her hand. There are ten. There’s no blue smarting from them. “I wasn’t feeling well,” she agrees. 

He doesn’t look at her as though she’s a caged animal. His jaw is cut and defined, and his shoulders are broader than when they were both young. He has an uncertain hand held out between them, as though he’s not sure whether she’ll accept or reject it.

He doesn’t seem to be scared of her. He matches his breathing with hers as she steadies it. He’s taller than her, and she comes up to his chest. He makes her feel small, she realizes, but not in a bad way.

He doesn’t shy away from her or recoil in disgust, as though she’s a monster. He watches her closely, and she does the same with him. He takes a step closer, and she lets him.

Part of Azula, the scared, angry fourteen year old girl wants to lash out at him. She wants to have him on his knees at her feet, trembling before her. Water Tribe scum. But that part no longer dominates. In the caverns of her twisting mind, she takes the shaking, seething girl by the hand, leading her away, to where she can be safe, to where she can heal.

The other side of Azula, the one who craves normalcy and affection despite her troubled past, looks at him with tender vulnerability. She’s no longer reeling as she reaches for his outstretched hand.

He tugs her to his chest, and she curls her fingers to clutch at the warm furs lining his lightweight robe. “Azula.” He looks down at her, eyes shining with worry. His eyes are blue, just like her fire. Is blue a bad color? No, she decides… It can’t be. Not when he looks at her with such genuine concern.

“It’s okay,” he reassures her. His arms are strong around her, and she finds herself leaning her head against his chest. “Hey,” he breaks into a goofy grin. “What do you say we go get something to eat? I’m _starving_.”

Disentangling herself from Sokka’s embrace, she straightens, dusting off her robes. “Very well.” Perhaps her need for mischief will be sated with this. “Let’s go and eat Zuko out of house and home.”

With a strange look in his eyes, Sokka grins at her. “You know, Azula - You’re not half bad!” He pauses to think. “You’re actually… kinda good!”

Taken aback, Azula buries his words deep in her heart, twisting her lips up in a smirk. “You’re not too terrible yourself,” she replies stiffly. “Be careful, Sokka - With how horribly funny your jokes are, you may cause the death of a thousand Fire Nation soldiers…” Her voice trails off as she internally evaluates the joke. “Because they’ll be choking,” she adds on, unsure of whether or not the detail will help, “with laughter.”

Sokka blinks at her. Then, he erupts into howls of laughter. “Man, that was a good one, Azula. Who knew you could be so funny?”

When he links one of her hands in his, she doesn’t pull back. As they walk down the corridor together to the kitchens, Azula is at peace. She will struggle. She knows that. But she leaves her ghosts behind her, for the very last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic has...i don't know. i think this fic has been very necessary for me to write. it's sort of veered off from where it was "supposed" to go (as in pure wholesome Zutara family fluff), but i think i like it better this way.
> 
> exploring these dynamics (Zutara/Sokkla/Steambabies) has been just... really good for me. it's a bit of a self indulgent fic, i suppose, and i wasn't really expecting many ppl to read it, lol. but thank you for reading anyways. it means a lot.
> 
> (also Azula attempting to be funny at the end of this chapter, lol. some things never change)


	7. please excuse her husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift from Uncle Iroh aids the Fire Lord and Lady during an important council meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...i love this chapter, lol. i don't think i've ever seen this in a zk fic before but xDD
> 
> this one goes out to my zk bby's

Holding back a snort of laughter as Iroh fusses over Zuko, Katara folds her arms over her chest, watching them both fondly. She checks her own appearance, fixing the way her dress hangs on her hips before adjusting the moon crest resting in her curls.

Izumi and Kya race throughout the courtyard, playing a rousing game of tag with Sokka, and Azula sets up shop nearby, propping her easel up and mixing different shades of paint on a blank palette. Occasionally, she glances up to watch the children and Sokka, her lips lifting ever so slightly.

Little Ro is strapped to Zuko’s chest, held securely in place by a silk sling Iroh brought with him from Ba Sing Se. There’s a support for his small neck so that he isn’t jostled around as Zuko moves, and his legs poke outward on either side. He’s curled up against his father, his cool body soaking in Zuko’s warmth eagerly.

Iroh finally finishes with the last strap, looking quite proud of his efforts. “Nephew, be sure to watch that his neck does not loll about as you walk. It will not do to have him tossed about as though he’s riding an eel hound. He is still very tiny.” His eyes twinkle as they meet Katara’s. “Lady Katara, you are always a sight for these sore eyes. May you both be granted an effective meeting with the council.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” she replies with a smile and small bow of her head. “And thank you very much for the carrier - I’m sure it’ll prove to be very useful as Ro gets bigger.” Then, she goes to stand beside Zuko, slipping under one of his free arms and peering at their little baby. She lightly kisses the soft down of Ro’s head.

Zuko nods his head in agreement, “I’ll be very careful, Uncle. And, yes, thank you for this. It was a really thoughtful gift.” Placing a free hand on Ro’s silk-clad back, he bows slightly, mindful of the baby’s wobbly neck. 

As they begin to make their way down to their meeting hall, Katara calls back, “Thank you for making sure that the children are safe, Uncle!”

Iroh’s proud smile is all the reply she needs.

Katara’s heels click lightly as they walk, and Zuko keeps an arm wrapped around her waist as they enter the room, the council already seated inside the large conference room. The loud, chaotic din dies almost instantly as the various members take in the scene before them. They look aghast as soon as they catch sight of the Fire Lord, with a _baby_ held against his chest.

To his credit, Zuko’s expression remains straight as he takes his position at the head of the table, Katara at his right side. Ro lightly kicks his legs, shoving a fist in his mouth, and Katara places a comforting hand against his back. She hopes that he’ll remain calm throughout the duration of the meeting - It should be a quick one, no more than an hour or two.

As Zuko calls the meeting to order, the council members all shoot each other scandalized glances, and Katara can barely hold back her laughter. She and Zuko both sink into their seats, and Ro lets out a squeal, sucking on his fist contentedly. Scrolls and parchments are shuffled around on the long table, and brushes begin to sweep across them as Zuko speaks and notes are taken. 

The council members have all managed to school their features into masks of indifference, but the stilted way they stutter out their proposals gives them away.

As Minister Xue proposes effective ways they can pool more money into the state’s educational department, Ro decides that he’s had enough of this meeting and begins to wail loudly. Xue freezes midsentence as his eyes fall on the crying baby, and the rest of the council members do the same, wondering what will happen now.

Locking mirthful eyes with Katara, Zuko stands to leave and stoops to press a kiss to her forehead, lightly hushing the baby as they exit the room so that he can calm Ro easier.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband - Prince Ro occasionally gets fussy when he’s still for too long.” Her back straight against her chair and her expression grave, Katara nods at Minister Xue. “Carry on, please.”

Minister Xue’s mouth hangs open, and the rest of the council look appalled at both the Fire Lord’s hurried departure and the Fire Lady’s sudden control of their meeting.

Narrowing her blue eyes, Katara motions Minister Xue on again. “Well?” She really doesn’t want to have to do this the hard way.

At Katara’s swift change in demeanor, the various members of the council seem to collect themselves, and Minister Xue clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable at the present situation. “Very well,” he stammers, launching into a feeble explanation of his plan to redirect certain funds from other departments toward his own. He explains how his plan would pan out practically and which funds in particular would be redirected; Katara’s amused to note that several of the other ministers look about ready to snap their brushes in half by the end of it.

She leans forward, chin resting atop folded hands as she listens.

Even though several members of the council look as though they’d like to protest against the Fire Lady presiding over their meeting, they all shrivel at Katara’s hard glare, sinking further into their seats. By the time Zuko returns to his seat with a napping Ro nestled against his chest, the meeting is very nearly over, and Katara is more than aware of the proud look in his eyes at her obvious dominance within the room.

With a wave of her hand, Katara adjourns the meeting, and the council scatters swiftly, taking their parchments and brushes with them. She turns to peek at Ro, meeting Zuko’s lips briefly in a soft kiss.

Minister Xue, though, is at her other side, practically quivering with nervousness. “Fire Lady Katara?” he’s barely able to choke the words out.

“Yes, Minister Xue?” she stands and faces him, Zuko at her side.

“You did a formidable job today leading the meeting,” he stutters, gray brows knitting together, causing a number of creases to race along his forehead. “I appreciate your support in favor of my proposal. Most of the other ministers are too busy clutching their purses instead of confronting the more pressing needs of the Fire Nation.” He bows respectfully. 

She smiles gracefully, “Of course, Minister Xue. We’re all here for the betterment of the Fire Nation, and with the help of a bit more thought and clarification, your proposal should be a perfect one.”

“Thank you, Fire Lady Katara. That’s very good to hear.” His old, knobby fingers collect his notes, and he bows once more to the Fire Lord and Lady. “It is an honor to serve you both.” Then, he hobbles from the room, leaving Katara and Zuko alone with Ro.

Turning to Zuko with a wildly happy look in her blue eyes, she tucks herself against his side, allowing him to envelop her in a hug.

“What a woman… You really took charge there, didn’t you?” Zuko teases. “Put some crotchety old council members in their place, hmm?” Ro stirs against them, and Zuko sets to work soothing the irritated baby before he cries.

Katara smirks. “So what if I did? They all about had an aneurism when you got up to leave and I kept the meeting going.” She tilts her face up to look at her husband, grateful for the equality of their partnership. 

With a fond glance down at their son, Zuko kisses her again, murmuring against her lips, “We really should do this again. You’re so much better at handling them than I am sometimes, and I like seeing you in charge.”

“Is that so, Fire Lord Zuko?” she arches a brow, pulling away from him slightly.

His golden eyes burn as he tugs her back to his side, careful not to jostle Ro with the sudden motion. “Yeah,” he replies huskily. “It’s kinda hot.”

Flicking her gaze back at him, Katara slips from his grasp, darting out into the hallway. “I know.” As Zuko rolls his eyes, she laughs, knowing he can’t chase after her because Ro’s still in the carrier. 

“You’re unbelievable, Fire Lady Katara.”

Grinning back at him mischievously, she tosses a wink at him, enjoying the way he coughs awkwardly into the long sleeve of his robes. “I always aim to please, Fire Lord Zuko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a cute, fluffy zk chap (with a dash of katara scaring the misogyny outta ppl for good measure) (AND WITH DADKO)
> 
> also omg uncle iroh makes an appearance this chap (finally?!?! lololol). i'm not entirely sure what the next chapter will be - i have one more part prewritten, but it may come a few chapters down the line soooo if you have any dynamics you'd like to see, drop me an ask via [tumblr](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/), and i'll do my best to pull through.
> 
> ...and we're almost at 200 kudos? that's crazy?!!


	8. the storm is finally over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a storm outside, but it's nothing compared to the one that's raging through Sokka's heart. Is he alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sokkla saturday anyone? or sokkla sunday? sokkla weekend lol? i wanted this out earlier today (as in saturday), but like... life got in the way so... here i am with that awkward timing ;)
> 
> this chapter's pretty sokka centric. a few people asked about what went down between sokka/suki, and that'll hopefully be addressed well enough here.

From what Sokka can recall, it doesn’t typically rain in the Fire Nation around this time of year, but as he glances out a window, crackling lightning streaks across the sky all the same. Rolling off his bed, he slips on a lightweight robe, stretching his aching muscles.

The moon is a slight sliver against the swirling night sky, and with a sad smile, he remembers Yue. He wishes he could protect her from the oppressive thunder clouds and ceaseless rain that block her from his view.

Padding across his room and out his chambers, he finds that his feet move of their own accord. Unlike most other diplomats and ambassadors, Sokka’s quarters are located within the Royal Family’s wing, mostly at Katara’s insistence. Both she and Zuko appreciate his proximity when the kids wake up in the middle of the night, afraid. The two tired parents are up most of the night to take care of Ro, and Uncle Sokka ends up being on call for Izumi and Kya, little feet racing to his room in the dead of night, little voices asking if he’ll get them a glass of water, little hands patting his scruffy cheeks with childish urgency.

It’s a wonder that neither of them have torn into his room by now. The storm’s picking up, and the thunder’s so loud that even he’s getting tiny shivers down his spine. 

As he passes by Katara and Zuko’s quarters on his way to the gardens, he hears them both comforting small voices and scared whimpers. Izumi and Kya must’ve both gone straight to their parents, then. He tries not to let it bother him… His nieces are obviously very afraid right now, and they sought out their parents, where they’d receive the comfort they needed.

Uncle Sokka’s only good enough for certain situations, he supposes.

It’s times like these when he wonders. About Yue. About Suki. About having a life of his own. About having his own brood of children. About having a wife, a _partner_ of his own.

Yue’s gone. She’s been gone for many years now. Sometimes, he thinks about what could’ve been without the war. Would he have been able to travel to the North Pole and meet her? Would she have worn his betrothal necklace instead of Hahn’s? Would he have been groomed to be the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe instead of the Southern? Would they have had a smiling bunch of blue-eyed children? He can almost see it… A tall boy, elegant and poised, just like his mother. A tiny girl, goofy and smart, just like her father. His heart wrenches in his chest as his eyes seek the moon, searching beyond the heavy, seething clouds above.

Suki’s gone too. Their love for each other almost ruined them both, he knows. So caught up in their respective duties to their people, they didn’t realize that they were drifting apart. They desperately wanted each other, and Sokka had even carved her a betrothal necklace, made of a smooth piece of aquamarine sea glass. He wanted Suki to be with him in the South while she wanted him to return with her to Kyoshi Island. They were in love. But he was stubborn. She was determined. And they were both unwilling to compromise. 

So they’d parted ways, a mutual promise of civility between them, at least for the sake of their shared friends. 

Still, Sokka hasn’t seen much of her since their split. She’s likely too busy, taking on more and more of the island’s political responsibilities, the same way he’s taken over the role of chieftan from his father in the South. It’s been a few years since their difficult decision, and Sokka isn’t as angry anymore. They’re both too vital to the reconstruction of the world, to the protection of the fragile peace that’s still unfolding within it.

Maybe if Sokka hadn’t been slated to succeed his father as Chief of the Southern Water Tribe. Maybe if Suki hadn’t needed to return to her village and assist with post-war efforts in the United Republic of Nations. Maybe if the world hadn’t been so vehemently insistent against their union.

They could’ve gotten married. They could’ve had bright-eyed children together, just like Izumi and Kya and Ro. They could’ve had a life together.

But Sokka’s twenty five now, nearing twenty six. How has time gone by so quickly? He’s fulfilled by his family and his tribe and his part in the political landscape shaped after the war. He is. He’s happy.

A salty tear betrays the turmoil within him, slipping down his cheek and crashing against the tiles beneath his feet. It joins and mixes with the stray raindrops that patter into the open hallway, blown in by the furious wind.

That’s when he sees her.

Her easel’s set up before her, mostly shielded from the rain, and she stands a careful distance away from where the overhang ends and opens up into the courtyards. Her long hair is wild and free, tangling, dancing madly in the wind. Her hand is poised over the canvas, wrist flicking delicately as she moves her brush along. The sheer shift she wears is nearly soaked through from the rain, but a heavier robe hangs haphazardly from her shoulders, tapering in at her slim waist. 

She looks beautiful.

There was a time when Sokka would have been afraid of her, so untamed amidst such a vivid display of raw power.

But now… Now he soaks in the sight of her, as though she’s a beacon in the night and he’s a ship lost at sea.

His feet move of their own accord, and he’s beside her in what feels like an eternity later.

Her lips part in surprise, but she steels herself immediately, her proud chin tilting up to look at him. “What do you want, peasant?” Her words are harsh, but her tone is uncertain, almost teasing.

“It sounds like someone’s stomping around up there,” he offers, gesturing up to the heavens. In doing so, he ventures too far from the safety of the overhang, and his arm becomes drenched.

Golden eyes flicking over to him cooly, Azula returns to her painting. “They’re doing the stomping for me.”

Brow raised, Sokka finally dares to look at her creation, instantly floored with what he sees. It’s the courtyard, yes, but there’s a storm breaking over the horizon, a stunning recreation of the one that’s occurring right now. There are sharp flares of lightning flashing in the distance, and the moon is a slight crescent, peeking out from behind a gathering of heavy clouds. 

“Are you really angry enough to warrant such a storm, though?” Sokka asks. His own resentment swirls up in his chest… All the what-if’s and should’ve-been’s and lost loves, threatening to overtake him.

Thoughtfully, Azula considers his question, eyes never leaving her painting, brush strokes noticeably shakier than before. She’s silent for a long time, and Sokka doesn’t push. He’s content to be here with her in this moment, simply existing together.

As they stand there in the midst of the storm, she never gives him a definitive answer, but Sokka knows what’s in her heart all the same. Neither of them have been handed the most ideal set of circumstances in life. They both know it, and so does the turmoil within them.

But as her easel’s dismantled and her painting’s stored away safely, Sokka finds that her hand still remains locked with his, slender fingers intertwined with his rough ones.

As the storm subsides and the angry clouds scatter to the winds, the moon is bright overhead, bathing them both in a kind glow. Sokka’s heart no longer hurts. So subtle that he almost doesn’t even notice the sensation, Azula squeezes his hand, the beautiful features of her face otherwise schooled into an impassive expression. 

His eyes no longer lift upward, instead searching for the woman standing beside him. She presses closer into his side, and he welcomes her. He’s no longer alone. The storm is finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kjfhgkjfg i did a lot of reflecting on this fic, and i've got the next five parts planned out with no satisfying ending in sight. that being said, i'm now thinking that this may be around 15 to 20 chapters (LOLLLLLLLLLL).
> 
> next chapter will be zk family during the same storm (because i'm soft for that).
> 
> say hi via [tumblr](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/) if you'd like! i'm running Zutara Drabble December (alongside antarcticas) so my tumblr's the best way to stay informed abt my stuff (because i'm a hot mess lol).
> 
> also omg thank you guys for 200 kudos🥺🥺


	9. safe from the lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since that fateful Agni Kai, Zuko has sworn to always protect the ones he loves from lightning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lol. so first of all, thank you to everyone who's been reading/commenting/dropping kudos on this fic. it really, really means a lot, especially since this is a fic i posted on a whim and choose to update whenever i feel like it. (i honestly was not expecting anyone to read this.)
> 
> that being said, i've been getting some slight backlash/criticism for the pairings in this fic. i know sokkla isn't always every zutara shipper's cup of tea, the same way not all sokkla shippers ship zutara. this fic will still feature both pairings because the dynamics worked out that way and i now love them together (and this is my damn fic lol). if you don't like that, you don't have to keep reading; i can't force anyone to read my fics (nor would i ever want to, lol). just please be respectful about it.
> 
> at everyone saying i'm writing incest (....what???) - zuko and katara are not blood related; hence, this is not incest. sokka and azula are not blood related; hence, this is not incest. neither pairing were raised to perceive each other as siblings; hence, this is not incest. i cannot believe i had to say that, but damn, lol.
> 
> anyways, i may make a tumblr post to address this, but kjfhgkjfhg. big yikes. as a way of saying thank you to all who continue to support me with this fic, i have some soft momtara/dadko for you.

His eyes bleary and his body stiff from sleep, Zuko slowly props himself up and adjusts to the darkness as Katara rolls off the bed, softly treading across their room to Ro’s crib. A particularly large crack of thunder causes them both to jolt as their room flashes brightly with lightning. Katara scoops a crying Ro up in her gentle arms, hushing him and rocking him soothingly.

Zuko lifts the covers slightly so that she can slip back under them, nestling into his side as she keeps their baby cradled against her chest. He wraps an arm around her securely as her head drops against his shoulder.

“Of all the times we get thunder,” Katara tries to stifle a yawn. She’s almost succeeded in quieting Ro down when he bursts into tears again, shoving a slobbery first into his mouth. “It’s okay, little one,” she whispers tenderly, lifting a hand up to rub her tired eyes. “Mommy and Daddy are here. We love you very much. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Beyond the walls of their rooms, the wind howls as rain continues to fall, crashing against the exposed tile floors of the open hallways outside. There’s a light draft from the storm, and Katara shivers beside him. Adjusting his body temperature, Zuko calls to his inner fire, comforting both his wife and their son with his natural heat.

Already feeling the effects of being up so late at night, Zuko stretches his free limbs as much as he can in the limited space, knowing that tomorrow morning he’ll be haggard. Katara is similarly exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes, hair haphazardly piled atop her head in a messy topknot. But they’re both up for Ro’s sake.

Ro’s still sickly despite the best efforts of Katara and the family physician, and in the few weeks that he’s been alive, he hasn’t been guaranteed to remain among them. With that sad understanding, they cherish every single moment they have with him, praying to Agni and Tui and La and Yue that his life will be spared. 

As his limbs begin to go numb, he presses another kiss to Katara’s forehead. Despite her tendencies to stay up late, she’s falling asleep against his shoulder. He leans back further into the pillows propped behind them, almost ready to relinquish his weary consciousness in exchange for a hopefully restful sleep.

But then, a series of frantic knocks resound on their door. 

Grumbling, Zuko shifts on the bed again, “Who is it?” He can’t help the annoyed edge that creeps into his raspy voice.

“Daddy, can we come in?” It’s Izumi.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed as Katara braces herself against the pillows and bedframe, Zuko walks across the room and opens the door, another bolt of lightning flashing through eerily. He ignores the way tiny shivers crawl up his spine at the sight, a hand unknowingly reaching to find the warped scar tissue on his abdomen.

Izumi and Kya launch themselves at him, both sobbing into his robes. Without another word, Zuko picks them up, kicking the door closed behind them. 

“Daddy,” Kya whimpers, burying her face in his chest at the sound of more thunder.

He sets them both on the bed, and they immediately burrow beneath the covers as he climbs in after them. He resumes his position beside Katara as Kya settles on his lap and Izumi leans into his other side.

Izumi’s lower lip wobbles, “I don’t like the lightning and the thunder.”

Nodding her head up and down in vigorous agreement, Kya adds, “Scary.”

Katara hushes Ro again, before pressing a light kiss to both the girls’ foreheads. “You both are safe here, with us.” She leans against Zuko, slipping a hand beneath his robe, finding the twisting web of scar tissue. “Daddy will protect us from the lightning.” She looks up at him with so much love in her blue eyes that his heart stutters.

Another clap of thunder reverberates through the room, and the girls shriek again, causing their brother to stir in Katara’s arms.

“Always,” Zuko nods his head in agreement, affectionately threading his fingers through Izumi’s dark curls. “And so will Mommy.” He thinks back to the day of the fateful Agni Kai, when he was forced to fight against his tormented little sister. It’s not a moment he likes to relive – Blue lightning tearing through him as his back slammed against the ground. As he convulsed there, raw energy pulsing through his veins, all he could think about had been Katara. She’d been an angel, dark curls wreathing her face as she subdued his sister and leaned over him, working through the scarring skin on his abdomen, realigning his chi pathways, saving his life. “It’s what she does best, really. We’ll always protect you, little ones.”

At his reassurances and Katara’s soothing touch, both girls seem to calm, still afraid of the lightning but confident in their parents’ abilities to keep them safe. Slowly, they drift back to sleep, and so does Ro.

Katara slumps even further beside him, “I love you, little ones.” Then, she looks up at him, cool hand still pressed to his scar. “Thank you for saving me from the lightning, Zuko.” Her eyes glitter with unshed tears, and he places his free hand atop hers before bringing them both up to his lips. 

“I wouldn’t have changed it for anything,” he murmurs, kissing each fingertip lightly. “I only wish that you’d helped me prepare for my coronation instead of…” His voice trails off. He’s glad Mai’s happy now – He is. He only wishes that they’d realized that they weren’t compatible sooner.

She smiles serenely, glancing down at their sleeping children, “Things still worked out in the end, though, didn’t they?” 

“They did,” he agrees musingly. “And I’m endlessly grateful.” He presses a tender kiss to her lips before shifting Izumi and Kya so that both girls are snuggled between them. “I love you, Katara. So much.”

“I love you, Zuko.” She readjusts her position so that they bookend the children, Ro still lying atop her chest.

Reaching out a hand, Zuko rests on his side, facing her. When her hand finally clasps in his and her eyes grow heavy with sleep, he allows his body to relax, still curled protectively around their little daughters. Despite his own exhaustion, he keeps a careful vigil over them, even after Katara’s expression relaxes with sleep.

The thunder crashes overhead, and the wind weeps achingly, and the lightning still bathes the room in a frightening glow, but none of it matters. His whole world is right here – his precious Katara on the other side of the bed, their precious family curled up in between them. 

As painful as their pasts are, everything that he and Katara have been through eventually led them _here._

His heart softens as Izumi throws an arm around Kya. His children will have what he and Katara never could, and that thought sets him at ease. They won’t have to be afraid – not of lightning, not of their parents, not of each other. Warmth fills his soul as he finally drifts off to sleep, Katara’s hand still held in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh, for some reason, this chapter was a bit harder to write, but i hope you all still enjoyed anyways.
> 
> thank you for everyone who continues to remain kind/supportive to me. i'm really, really grateful.
> 
> Elsie


	10. she will rise and bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one piece of Iroh's wisdom that Azula can puzzle out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's been hella rough. i accidentally injured my shoulder/back/neck, lol, so my day's been a complete train wreck. (studying while in pain during finals szn is no joke, fhgfhg)
> 
> that being said, tho, today's this fic's one month anniversary! i started/published this fic just a month ago 11/16/20 so like... happy one month, family portraits, lol. if only i'd only known then what it'd become.
> 
> also wth we hit 250 kudos? bro, two or three chapters ago we weren't anywhere near 200 - that's wild.
> 
> as my thanks to you, have some family fluff (with uncle iroh!!)

“So,” Iroh begins, tickling his namesake’s tummy while watching her out of the corner of his eyes. “How have you been, my niece?”

Keeping her gaze straight ahead of them, Azula arches a single brow. “And what does it matter to you, old man?” She sits upon the concrete bench beside him, a careful eye on the girls as they shriek and chase Sokka around the courtyard.

He glances at her shrewedly. “One must always be watchful when preparing a pot of tea, lest it boil over.” Then, he goes back to chuckling at Ro who’s cooing in his arms.

“I’m not a pot of tea,” Azula shoots back cooly, “so I don’t know what you’re insinuating with that metaphor of yours.” She stomps out the temper that begins to flare up at the pit of her stomach. She’s never been especially fond of her uncle, but that could be said for just about everyone here now.

Katara and Zuko are seated together on a bench at the opposite end of the garden, enjoying afternoon tea. Azula can count on both hands and both feet the amount of times she’d attempted to murder them over the course of their collective lives. Sokka’s chasing the girls around, but she can similarly recall a time when she’d been toying with him in the bunkers on the day of the black sun and he’d slammed her against a cavern wall.

Her heartbeat picks up at that thought, and she shoves that too from her mind.

Back then, they were enemies, fighting on opposing sides of a war. Now, they’re acquaintances, perhaps even friends. But is she allowed to entertain the thought of more? He understands her in ways that she never thought possible, and they’re more alike than she ever could’ve imagined.

They’re both alone in the world, despite having fought for or against it. They both know the cold grip of loneliness and lost relationships and late sleepless nights. They both have seen and experienced too much for their relatively young ages. 

But they are also very different.

He has so much placed on his shoulders as the leader of his tribe, and she has close to nothing placed on hers. As he rebuilds and coaxes life out of the dying embers of his tribe, she wastes away in her quarters, her own flame flickering dangerously low. While he’s full of an occasionally manufactured liveliness, she feels nothing.

Perhaps they both feel nothing, just in different ways.

“My metaphor isn’t intended to offend, my niece,” Iroh replies musingly. His eyes still are on Ro, but he’s decidedly focused on Azula right now. “I wish to understand you.” He nods over at Sokka, who’s been tackled to the grass by a giggling Izumi and Kya. “It seems that you have found someone who can.”

Rolling back her shoulders stiffly, Azula’s quick to object. “Whatever you’re implying, you can forget it. Sokka and I are just… acquaintances. Our siblings are disgustingly in love, and we share our nieces and nephew. That’s all. Are you satisfied, old man?” Her brows draw together in light annoyance, but her words lack most of their typical sting.

Iroh laughs. “I never mentioned Master Sokka at all, dear niece,” he says innocently.

“Well, you can forget it all the same,” Azula huffs, nose in the air. As if she’d fall for a Water Tribe peasant. He hasn’t even been here for more than two months. Then, her gaze lands on Katara and Zuko across the lawn. The way her older brother’s curled protectively around Katara isn’t lost to her, and she almost resents the serene smile that graces her sister in law’s features because of it.

Eyes twinkling with some kind of secret knowledge unbeknownst to her, Iroh does not bother hiding his smile. “Of course, niece. Just remember that the longer a young turtleduck swims in circles, the easier it becomes to forget that there exists a whole pond beyond it to explore.”

Azula’s nose wrinkles at that, not quite sure what her uncle expects her to interpret from that line of useless nonsense. “I’m not a turtleduck either.” She examines her nails, narrowing her eyes at them darkly.

Ro’s face scrunches up tightly, and Iroh stands, using his free hand to pat his stomach. “Are you hungry, Prince Ro?” Though he receives no response, he nods sagely. “I would do much for a hot cup of tea right now as well. Why don’t we go find some?” He glances at Azula. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, my niece.”

She blinks. “Whatever you say, old man.”

Iroh walks away with the baby, leaving Azula alone on the bench. She grips the fabric of her tunic, and her vision blurs as she stares at the patches of grass ahead of her. Her stream of consciousness is swirling and fluid, and she shifts in and out of focus. She’s dissociating.

Some time later, a pair of small arms wraps around her in a hug, grounding her. “Auntie Zula,” Kya beams, snuggling into her side. “Look!” Her toothy grin is wide, and she disentangles herself long enough to throw her arms in the air. The water that’s shakily pulled from the turtleduck pond certainly isn’t coming from Katara.

Still recovering from her dissociation, Azula scoots away in shock as Kya drops the water, splashing it against the bench.

From where they’re seated at the other end of the courtyard, Katara and Zuko watch as Kya suspends another strand of water midair and leap to their feet, stunned, as they rush to their middle child.

Sokka and Izumi are both preoccupied with their game of tag, and Iroh’s gone off in search of tea, but Katara and Zuko arrive in mere moments.

Kya, still learning to speak beyond her baby babble, doesn’t know why her parents are making such a big deal over her abilities. She just claps her hands together excitedly, droplets of water dancing about her midair. “Mommy, look!” She's whirling around with a childish glee, and Katara revels in the moment with her.

Golden eyes softening at the sight, Zuko says, “She’s… barely turned three. Izumi was four and a half the first time she bent.”

Azula sniffs, although a hint of pride bleeds into her voice. “She obviously takes after me. Quite the little prodigy, I’d say.”

“You think?” Zuko’s voice is shaky.

“You’ll have your hands full, that’s for sure,” Azula laughs shortly. At his apprehension, she pats his arm stiffly in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. “She’ll turn out better than I did, if that’s what you’re worried about, Zuzu.”

He turns to her with a strange look in his eyes as Iroh returns, clasping a steadying hand on his shoulder. He’s silent for some time, watching Katara and Kya twirl around together by the pond as Sokka and Izumi rough-house on the grass.

Finally, Iroh breaks the silence, “Though the lotus flower is born of mud, it rises to meet its challenges and chooses still to blossom.”

Azula knows that, once again, Iroh is speaking about her. But this time, she doesn’t refute him. She exchanges a fond glance with Zuko before turning back to watch Kya and Katara as her little niece discovers her bending. As Izumi climbs up onto Sokka’s shoulders while pretending to be a badgermole, Azula thinks that she’s perhaps happy. Her uncle is right.

Like a lotus flower, she too will rise above the mud and bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading - this one isn't my favorite chap i've ever written (iroh is so hard for me to write oml), but i hope you enjoyed it all the same <33
> 
> i know i've been posting sokkla and jue recently, lol, but i promise that i still love zutara kjfhgfkjg. there's just such a lack of rarepair content that i wanna see, and i love all three ships with an unhealthy passion now. 
> 
> !! and if you're new here and wanna follow me on [tumblr](http://elsie-zel.tumblr.com/), there's a link like always, lol.
> 
> time 2 go take more ibuprofen
> 
> Elsie


	11. goodbyes can be hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka returns to the South Pole. Saying goodbye to his family after spending so many months with them is difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is basically Sokka & everyone with hints of Sokkla ;-; next chap will likely be ZK of some kind. i have a good idea of where we're headed w this fic, but i'm also starting to think that 15 chapters won't be enough (again, lol). hopefully there are no typos bc i didn't proofread as closely as i probably should've.

With a crooked smile, Sokka lifts Kya into his arms as she throws her small ones around his neck, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I’m going to miss you, little one,” he admits gruffly, his bags at his feet as he stands reluctantly at the port. Giving Izumi another kiss and folding her in his arms along with her sister, he tries to ignore the way his heart is squeezing in his chest. His stay at the Fire Nation has been extended multiple times since his arrival, and he’s been here for the past three or so months, agreeing to leave only once Ro’s decidedly in the clear.

His nieces pull away from him, going to stand by their father. “We’ll miss you too, Uncle Sokka,” Izumi speaks for the both of them, her voice heavy with tears.

Lifting Kya up into one of his arms, Zuko meets Sokka in a strong Water Tribe grasp. “Thank you for being here, Sokka.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Sokka replies back easily, lips twisting into another bittersweet smile. He then pulls Zuko in for a hug, the Fire Lord lurching forward unelegantly. Laughing at Zuko’s resulting scowl, Sokka pats his back reassuringly. “You take care of my baby sister, you hear me? And my nieces and nephew. And don’t go giving me another too soon,” he adds wolfishly, ruffling Kya’s hair lightly.

Zuko just rolls his eyes fondly.

Then, Sokka envelops Katara in a strong embrace. She looks ready to cry at his departure. He can’t deny his own reluctance to leave, but he maintains his grin, tousling her curls, just like he did when they were little. “I’ll miss you,” he says, trying to disguise the way his voice wavers as he attempts to launch into another good ol’ Sokka joke. For once, nothing comes to him, and he messes with the fluffy down on top of Ro’s head as he rests in Katara’s arms. “Next time I see you, lil guy, I’ll give you tips to surviving your mother. She’s annoying and overbearing, I _know_. Wait, what’s that?” he leans closer to the baby’s sleeping face, ignoring Katara’s watery glare. “You think she’s a great mom anyways?” he surveys his little sister with a mock appraising look. “Yeah… I think you’re right. She’s a pretty awesome mom.”

And Katara’s back in his arms, “You better come back to visit me soon. And you’d better write and make sure that you’re still eating well and take care of Gran-Gran and Dad and Pakku and the rest of the tribe and don’t put yourself in _too_ much danger and -”

He cuts her off with a goodnatured grin, “I promise I’ll be careful, Katara. And keep laying off the cactus juice, alright? Somehow, I dunno if it’ll quench the lil guy,” he nods at Ro. 

Too saddened by his departure to truly scold him, Katara just shakes her head at him with a small laugh, “I swore to never touch cactus juice with a ten meter pole after seeing the way you act on it.” She bounces a wiggling Ro in her arms as she steps back to stand next to Zuko.

Unconsciously, Sokka decides that they all look perfect together. Zuko with his Fire Lord crown secured in his topknot, a strong arm wrapped tightly around his wife’s waist. Katara with her baby tucked into her arms, the moon crest glinting amongst her curls. Their two little girls chattering together and clinging to them with bright eyes. He captures the moment in his mind, knowing that Hakoda will want to hear news of the family as soon as he steps off the boat, back on icy ground.

He’d already bid Iroh farewell back at the palace; the old man’s been complaining of his achey joints recently and often forgoes excursions in order to play pai sho with some of his older noble friends.

Earlier this morning, Ty Lee had given him a bright smile before skipping back off to her duties, preparing for his imminent departure. According to the bubbly acrobat-turned-head-warrior, Suki’s also doing well, leading the Kyoshi warriors with all the pride and skill he’s always known her to possess. He’s glad for her, really. She’s found her path, and he’s found his own too. Despite their great love for each other, neither could compromise their duties to their people, and parting had been sad but necessary. He wishes her all the best.

Finally, he turns to Azula. Her golden eyes are fighting, he can tell. They’re fending off the deep haziness that comes over them when she’s dissociating or lost in another awful memory. Of all those he cares about in the palace, Azula is the one he’s most loathe to leave. Zuko and Katara have each other and their children; Iroh has his family and his pai sho buddies; Ty Lee has her responsibilities and warrior troupe. But Azula? Sometimes she gets lost in her mind.

Her arms are wrapped around her thin form tightly, and she looks up at him with her jaw set determinedly. There’s a war waging in her eyes, and he could almost swear that there are tears forming there too. “Azula,” he says, taking a careful step toward her. Acutely aware of the gazes on them, he’s gentle when he reaches out.

She hesitates for a moment before stumbling into his arms. “Not a word, peasant,” she hisses at him, tears soaking into his tunic all the same. Her hair’s twisted into an elegant knot at the top of her head, and she adjusts her robes so that they don’t trip on the long silk. Her body’s tense, but she leans into him, clinging to him as though he’s her anchor to this world.

Despite himself, he grins, hoping that his sadness and uncertainty at leaving her remain hidden. “That’s Chief of the Southern Water Tribe to _you_.”

Scoffing against his chest, she avoids his gaze, pulling away reluctantly. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” she admits lowly. Her lips are twisted into a small scowl, but he can still see the tears glittering in her golden eyes.

“Goodbyes can be hard,” he agrees, tugging lightly at the end of his warrior’s wolftail. “But I’ll write,” he promises before he can stop himself. What is he saying? He’s terrible at writing letters. He can barely get a pageful written down for Katara in his monthly “ _hey sis I’m still alive so don’t worry about me!”_ updates. Why’s he promising to write ones to Azula?

That seems to ease the crease on her brow, though, and she tugs away from him sharply. “I’ll do my best to respond.” Her voice is clipped and restrained. She holds her chin up high, meeting his gaze loftily. “Peasant,” she adds, although there’s a teasing lilt to it.

His grin returns, and so does his courage. “I’ll look forward to it, then.” He stoops to kiss the top of her head, ignoring the way Zuko’s burning gaze seems to settle on him.

“Very well,” she takes another step backward, wrapping her arms around herself again. “Goodbye.” She adds, almost as an afterthought, “Sokka.”

As he stands on the boat, he tries to convince himself that it’s the salt spray that’s causing his eyes to water. But seeing them all there… Katara, Zuko, Izumi, Kya, Ro, and _Azula._ There’s a stubborn lump at the back of his throat as he realizes that he’s left a very large part of his heart in the Fire Nation.

For his part, he tries to put on a brave face as the boat sails away from the dock, but there’s something about the way Katara hands little Ro to Zuko before wrapping a steadying arm around Azula that causes his heart to seize in his chest. He’ll miss them all terribly, and he knows it.

Settling into his sea legs, he doesn’t leave the boat’s railing until the dock’s a mere smudge against the horizon. He wipes a stray water droplet away from his eyes. Yes. He turns his back on the shrinking Fire Nation coastline. Definitely the salt spray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh how did this lowkey turn into a slight Sokkla slowburn. that wasn't the plan at all, lol, but i kind of live for it now. it's like the best of both worlds (established, domestic fave couple + slowburn, slight pining other fave couple).
> 
> this chapter had me so soft kjhgfjkfhg ;-; i'm trying to write Azula as realistically as possible, and her mental health issues are kind of why everything's been so slowburnish. it'll pay off, though, i promise.
> 
> also i swear that i have not forgotten that this is also a ZK fic. more coming of them too jkhfgkjfh (hence potentially upping chapter count again). SORRY I'M A MESS BYE
> 
> Elsie


	12. it'll always be enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara finds Zuko up late at night and brings him to bed. They discuss all the things that have been bothering her since Sokka's departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a soft ZK chapter that gives more insight on family dynamics and our bby Ro
> 
> this chapter is dedicated to [@whattheheehaw](https://whattheheehaw.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr bc i love her and bc i tagged one of her posts as a meta tonight even tho she always tells me not to (SHE WRITES META I SWEAR). love u Chels lol
> 
> sorry in advance for typos/whatever - i didn't proofread super closely (school)

“Zuko? It’s so late.” It’s dark out, the pale moon a small sliver in the night sky. Katara enters the office with light feet, the door creaking shut behind her, Ro in her arms.

Slumped over his desk, brush in hand, Zuko picks up his head to look at her, dark circles beneath his eyes. The candle by his side flickers softly, flame jumping anxiously at her sudden appearance. “I’m working.”

Her brows furrow, “I can see that. But it’s also well past midnight. You’re usually asleep by now.” She crosses over carpet to rest a gentle hand on his back. “I tucked the girls into bed.” He shifts under her touch. “They were upset that their daddy wasn’t there to tell them their favorite bedtime story.” When a guilty look crosses his face, she adds, “They were also upset that Uncle Sokka left for the South Pole.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko mutters back, his brush strokes becoming looser and messier along the parchment. “I didn’t mean to miss their bedtime.”

Pressing soothing circles into his tensed shoulder blades, she whispers, “I know. But come to bed now. Or need I remind you that you rise with the sun?” Her lips twist into a teasing smile as she adjusts the baby sleeping in her arms.

He scowls up at her, “I was a dumb teenager when I said that, you know.”

“I do know,” she agrees, “which is why reminding you of it is so fun. Now c’mon. What good are the Fire Lord and Lady if they’re not well rested?”

Muttering incoherently, Zuko drops his brush back in its ink well, reorganizing the parchments scattered across his desk. Strands of black hair escape his top knot and the twining gold meant to hold it in place, and he staggers until he’s standing beside her, slipping an arm around her waist.

“You work too hard sometimes,” she scolds, leading him from his office to their bedroom one corridor down. A cool breeze rustles through her robes, and she draws closer to Zuko. His warmth is enough to combat the chilliness of the night until they reach their quarters.

Stifling a yawn, Zuko pushes the doors open, gesturing for Katara to step inside, “I don’t work any harder than you do.”

As Katara tucks Ro into his crib, she’s vaguely aware of Zuko changing out of his royal robes and into looser nightclothes. “We both need to pace ourselves better, especially now that Sokka’s returned to the South. We won’t be able to manage the children and all our projects without sleep, and we lost one of our best babysitters.”

“Uncle will likely be returning to Ba Sing Se soon,” Zuko mentions, slipping beneath the sheets.

Once Ro’s safely in his crib, Katara crosses the room and slides under the covers alongside her husband. “Hopefully he won’t be gone for very long.” She reaches for the fur blanket draped over her side of the bed, wrapping it around her shivering form.

With a flick of his wrist, Zuko puts out the small candles lighting up their room; they hiss in their sconces as he moves closer to her, wrapping a sturdy arm around her shoulders. “I hope so too. I worry about him sometimes, alone in Ba Sing Se. I wish he’d come live here with the rest of the family.”

“Now that he has a third grandchild to spoil, maybe he will,” Katara smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She leans a head against Zuko’s shoulder, her furs secured tightly around her. “Do you remember how we requested that renowned physician from the Earth Kingdom not too long ago?” At Zuko’s sleepy nod, she continues, “He arrived today. I requested that he examine Ro immediately.” In the darkness, her eyes find her littlest one, wheezing softly in his crib. “All the palace physicians we’ve consulted have agreed that Ro will be a small child, but we could never get to the bottom of why his cries are so weak.”

Wordlessly, Zuko finds one of her hands, gripping her icy fingers in his warm ones.

“The Earth Kingdom physician is also a professor at Ba Sing Se University, and most of his research is focused on children under five,” Katara leans into her husband, the furs slipping off her shoulders. “He thinks that Ro may have some sort of respiratory illness.”

“And it’s something you’re unable to heal with your bending.” A statement, not a question, to fill in the blanks. His raspy voice is tinged with pain.

She just nods her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Zuko, I don’t know what to do… what we  _ can _ do for him.” Her fear is swallowed by the darkness that surrounds them. “I’m to meet with the professor again tomorrow before noontime.” She can still see the crescent moon, peeking through one of the windows of their quarters, and her heart whispers an earnest prayer to Yue. “Will you come with me?” 

Zuko’s lips brush softly against her forehead. “Of course, I will.” There’s no hesitation in his response, not a moment where he wavers. “You’re not in this alone, Katara. We have each other.” 

The fur blanket slips off the bed as she crawls into his lap and throws her arms around his waist, tucking herself beneath his chin. 

“Ro’s going to make it,” he whispers into her hair. “He’ll bend with his sisters. He’ll learn to make tea from Uncle. He’ll learn to bend from you. He’ll feed the turtleducks with me. He’ll cause mischief with Azula, and he’ll go icedodging with your dad and Sokka.”

Her heart clenches in her chest. “Zuko, I miss them.”

He trails gentle hands down her arms as Ro coughs from across the room. They freeze. “Who?”

“Sokka,” she replies. “My dad. Gran-Gran. I feel like I haven’t seen them in ages. I miss Toph and Aang and Suki too.”

“It’s been too long since we’ve all been together,” he agrees, hands drifting to rub comforting circles into the tense muscles of her back.

She nods in agreement. “We’ll have to plan meeting sometime soon…” Then, the question escapes her lips before she can stop it, “Do you think Sokka and Azula get along well?” 

From the way he tenses in her arms, she wonders if he perhaps thinks that their siblings get along a little  _ too _ well. “Uhh.” He clears his throat to the point where she worries he’s choking. “…Yeah.” A scowl spreads across his features. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugs her shoulders before hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “No reason.” She fights a yawn. “It’s really late, Zuko. We should sleep. When dawn arrives, you’ll be exhausted.”

They both shift, and Zuko cradles her in his arms.

“Zuko?”

“Yes, Katara.”

“Being with you… What we have… It’ll always be enough.”

“Always.”

She smiles. He falls asleep first, the same way he has every night for the past six years. Running a finger down the slope of his nose and the curve of his cheek, she’s glad she doesn’t have to live a life without Zuko, a life without their children. She can’t help but feel worlds better now that all the swirling thoughts of her mind have been addressed. As the moon finally hides itself from view, her mind is at peace, and she closes her eyes.

The life she’s created together with Zuko will always be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just as a headsup, i've been working on an Azula-centric prequel for this universe. it's genfic and explores Azula's mental health post Agni-Kai (with snippets of how ZK got together and Maiko/Kataang/Sukka did not work out) 
> 
> i wanted to post it before updating this fic, but due to the current circumstances within America, i figured we could all use some serotonin right about now. please stay safe everyone ;-; <3 
> 
> thank you guys for almost 300 kudos. that's unreal
> 
> Elsie


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